


So You Think You Can Destiel Part Three

by RivetingRedPants



Series: SYTYCD Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivetingRedPants/pseuds/RivetingRedPants
Summary: One day, Dean gets a call from So You Think You Can Dance, to come back and All Star. He decides to take it, and goes to Vegas, only to find that it's a reunion season, which means the last two shows before the finale will only be everyone's favorite dances thus far. All the famous dancers are back, and Dean is forced to dance with Castiel yet again.





	1. Ahead of Myself

Dean:   
BEEP BEEP BEEP the alarm screamed repeatedly. Dean rolled over, and turned it off. He got up, brushed his teeth, and looked in the mirror. Still skinnier than he had any right to be. He had bags under his eyes from sleep deprivation. He sighed, and ran his hands through his hair. Looking at the unkempt 5 o’clock shadow on his face. He got dressed, and went into the kitchen of his one bedroom apartment to make himself breakfast. As he cooked, he played classic rock, but now he didn’t sing, or dance. He only listened to the music in silence as he fried his eggs. Save the dancing for work, he thought.   
He got in his Impala, and drove to the Juvenile Detention Center. His boss Metatron, who ran the place, clapped Dean on the back as he walked into work.  
“Hmm? Am I late?” Dean said, looking up from his coffee cup.   
“No Deano! It’s a special day!”   
“Oh?” Dean said, unamused that his boss was this happy so early in the morning.  
“Today marks your third year working here! You’ve helped so many kids in just three years! I can’t imagine what we’d do without you!” Metatron said enthusiastically.   
“Oh. Three years? Are you sure?” Dean asked, looking around like he’d just woken up from a trance. If he’d been working here for three years, that means it’d been one and a half years since …   
“Yep! Three years! Anyway, go in there and change some angry little lives!” Metatron was still yelling for some reason Dean didn’t quite understand.   
Dean worked long hours now, having no reason to go home in time for dinner. He normally showed up at the Detention Center at 8am, and left at 9pm. He sat in his office, listening to the radio, and formulating the next week’s lesson plan at around 8pm, Metatron knocked on the door.   
“Come in,” Dean called. Metatron’s salt and pepper (but mostly salt) hair poked through the door.  
“Dean you can go home, you know.”   
“Hmm? Oh,” Dean looked up, and looked at the clock. “I’ve got to finish these lesson plans for next week, then I’ll be heading out, I promise.”   
Metatron smiled sadly at him, “alright Dean. See you tomorrow.”   
“Uhuh. Bye,” Dean called after him, turning on the radio. Ahead of Myself by the X Ambassadors came on, and Dean found himself more focused in the song than he was in his work.   
Thought I was ready,  
Ready for someone else but every time I get ahead of myself,  
yeah every time I get ahead of myself.  
He sighed at the radio.  
“Me too buddy,” He told it forlornly. How long did it take to fix a broken heart? Apparently, more than a year and a half. Dean’s cellphone rang, and Dean looked down at it to see a familiar name on the caller ID.   
“Crumpet?” Dean asked, confused.   
“Deano! Good to see you haven’t given up the nickname thing after three years.”   
“Nah, I couldn’t quit on you crumpet.”   
Nigel sighed into the phone, “I’m sorry to call you so late Dean, but we are about to start a new season.”   
“Ah, is it that time already?”   
“Alas, it is. We were wondering if you would come back and All Star for us, I know you said no last time, but it’s been a few years . . . have you changed your mind?”   
Dean looked around his office, scattered papers, white walls, a clock that told him it was 8:30pm and he had nothing to live for anymore.   
“Sure. Why not.”   
“Excellent!” Nigel said, sounding genuinely surprised. “I’ll have my people send a plane ticket to your people, you leave next week!”   
“Okay. . . uh, Nigel?” Dean asked.  
“Yes?”   
“I don’t exactly have . . . people?” Dean told him.   
“Oh oh that’s right, sorry I got you confused with uh . . . right. I’ll send the plane ticket to you shortly,” Nigel said, sounding flustered.   
“Sounds good, crumpet. See you next week.”   
“See you then, Deano.”   
Dean hung up the phone, and stared at the wall. Nigel got him confused with Castiel. Cas, who had to have “people” because he was such a famous dancer these days, he couldn’t handle answering his own phone half the time, he was too busy.   
Dean stood up and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and picked up his phone, after a few rings, he finally answered.   
“What’s up?” Cole asked.  
“Hey man, I could use a drink, you down?”   
“Always.” Cole said.


	2. The Night We Met

Dean:   
Dean fell asleep on the plane thanks to the sleeping pills he had taken before getting on. It might be a four-hour flight, but Dean was not about to die screaming. He wanted to die in his sleep. While on the plane, he dreamt of his Castiel. Of course he did. He was going back to the show that brought them together, and almost tore them apart. How could he think of anyone else?   
In the dream, it was Christmas day. Their last Christmas together. They had made love by the fireplace, and afterwards, they had laid there, wrapped up in each other and laughing, their hands intertwined, wedding rings glowing in the reflection of the flames. Dean didn’t remember everything they had said. But he remembered Cas’s smile. The way his eyes crinkled up at the corners when he looked at Dean.  
“I love you,” Dean told him in the dream.   
Cas looked hurt, and Dean couldn’t understand why. He didn’t remember it like this.   
“Then why did you send me away?” Cas asked him.   
The dream changed to the last time he saw Cas, a year and a half ago.   
It was dark, Cas was crying profusely.   
“I thought you loved me,” he had whispered, begged.   
“Leave,” Dean told him coldly. “Go.”  
Dean was jolted awake, and for a second he was convinced the plane had crashed and he was dying, but he glanced out the window and saw the plane had simply landed. He got his overhead bag, and exited the plane, unable to shake the memories, the nightmares. He wore them around his shoulders like a coat, too heavy to allow him much movement. While he was waiting for his luggage, he heard a familiar voice.  
“DEAN?!”   
Dean turned around in time to catch an armful of Meg. He smiled and pet her curls.   
“Hey Meg! They called you back again too, huh?” He asked her.   
Meg grinned and hugged him again.   
“Where have you been, Winchester?” She asked.   
“Same place as always,” Dean said, shrugging. “Who else did they call back?”   
Now the joy was gone from Meg’s eyes. “Oh. You don’t . . . you don’t know?”   
Dean didn’t have to hear what she had to say. He saw it. Saw him. Behind Meg was Castiel. The love of Dean’s life. He looked better than the last time Dean saw him, but that wasn’t hard to do considering the last time Dean saw him, Cas’s heart had just been shattered. Cas was more muscle now. Not so lean anymore. He wore his hair slightly different, he was wearing a tan trench coat and a striped tie. He looked like a business man. Not at all Dean’s nerdy little angel librarian. He was smiling, laughing at something the woman beside him had said. The woman whose hand he was holding. Dean noticed a ring glinting on her finger. Oh.   
He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, like he was in a vacuum and couldn’t breathe. He wanted to scream and cry all at once. Castiel’s eyes met his, and all the joy drained from Cas’s face. Dean looked away, looked at Meg, who seemed concerned.   
“I’m sorry Dean. I didn’t realize no one had told you.”   
“About him being here, or about the fact he remarried?”   
Meg bit her lip, “they’re engaged. Not married.”   
“I need some air, it was nice to see you again Meg,” Dean smiled weakly, grabbed his bag and practically ran out of the airport as fast as he could. In the taxi on the way to the hotel, he leaned his head against the seat rest and looked out the window. There was the diner he and Cas had burgers after the pizza man routine. There was the country club he had took Cas to two step for the first time. He remembered flipping Cas, and how the world had seemed to freeze around them when Cas landed it, grinning wildly.   
Maybe coming back to Vegas was a mistake. Maybe he should have just stayed in Kansas and worked until he died, and done nothing like this ever again. He wondered if it was too late to back out. He knew the show booked the entire floor of the hotel for the All Stars. His stomach turned. He hoped he was on the opposite side from Cas. He didn’t want to run into him any more than he had to. And he certainly didn’t want to run into Cas’s fiancé.   
Dean thought back to one day, when they were searching for a couch for their new house. Cas hadn’t really cared too much about the couch. They had a love seat, and sure, he saw the need for a couch, but he didn’t think it was urgent that they have one. Dean, on the other hand, had set his mind to it. One Saturday, he dragged Castiel to every furniture store in Lawrence. The entire day they spent sitting on different sofas. Castiel could have been annoyed, but he wasn’t. He just smiled, and when Dean declared none of the sofas in the store was good enough, Castiel swung his keys around his finger and laughed and held the door open for Dean as he drove on to the next store. The entire time, Dean realized he was being ridiculous. He realized that they could order a couch online, or wait and shop around more. The last store they went to, the found the perfect couch.   
“She’s beautiful,” Dean said, relaxing comfortably on an L shaped black leather couch. Castiel smiled at him, standing nearby. Dean reached out and pulled Cas down on the couch with him. “Babe, tell me this couch isn’t perfect!” Dean said, grinning at his at the time boyfriend. Castiel settled down beside Dean.   
“Does it come with the cute cuddly man?”  
“Why I believe it does!”   
“Then I’m sold,” Castiel said, giving Dean a quick kiss. Before Dean could pull out his wallet, Castiel was handing the sales clerk his card.  
“Babe, you don’t have to-,” Dean started.  
Cas held up his hand. “Consider it a gift for being an amazing boyfriend. And all you have to do in return is give me a massage every now and then.” Cas wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.   
Dean pretended to consider the deal. “If I have to do something in return, is it really a gift?”   
“Why Dean Winchester, should I take my gift back?!” Cas cried in fake outrage.  
“No no,” Dean laughed, “I think that deal will do nicely.”   
They lugged the couch back home, and set it up in the living room where Dean wanted it. Dean collapsed onto it, and looked at the clock. They had spent the entire day shopping. It was nighttime now.   
“Love, do you want a cup of tea?” Castiel asked, knowing tea was one of Dean’s guilty pleasures. Dean looked at the man standing in the entryway to the kitchen in awe. He stood there, wearing a soft blue tee-shirt, tight jeans. His hair was scruffy, his face scruffier. He held a coffee mug in his hand that said “World’s Okayest Brother” that Sam had gotten him. Cas had just been dragged around town for an entire day, and then offered Dean tea. For some reason, Dean knew right in that moment that he would ask Castiel to marry him. Before, he had been sure in the kind of way that when you’re in grade school, you’re sure that all green foods were gross. Now, he looked at Cas with a certainty that he’d never had before. He got up, walked across the room, and kissed Cas with all he had. Cas nearly dropped the mug, but caught it last minute. When they broke apart, Cas grinned at him.  
“What was that for?” He asked.  
“I just . . . I really love you.” Dean had told him. The next week, he proposed to Cas.   
Now, Dean sat in his hotel room, alone. He considered going out for food, but what if he ran into Cas on the way? Besides, who would he go out with? A knock sounded on the door and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He rose slowly to answer it, not knowing if he wanted it to be Castiel, or if he wanted it to be anyone besides Castiel. He looked through the peephole. It was a curly haired demon holding a pizza box.  
“Hey, I’ve got pizza and beer, open up,” Meg said, in her no-bullshit sort of tone. Dean rolled his eyes and opened the door. Meg pushed past him and walked in.   
“How did you even know what room I was in?” Dean asked.   
“I told the front desk I was your panicked girlfriend and I’d forgotten which room we were staying in,” she grinned devilishly.   
“I can’t tell if that’s pure genius, or pure evil,” Dean said.   
“Why not both?” Meg shrugged. “Anyway. What’s on TV?” She plopped down on his bed and started flipping through channels, opening the pizza box in her lap.  
“Sure Meg, go ahead and make yourself at home,” Dean said, closing the door. In truth, he was happy Meg was here. At least if there was someone around, he wouldn’t just sit in bed and think about Castiel.  
Dean sat on the bed next to Meg, opened a beer, and reached for a slice of pizza.   
“You ready for tomorrow, Deano?” She asked, eyes still on the TV.   
“I um . . . I was actually thinking about dropping out.”   
Meg stopped and turned towards him, eyes full of fury.   
“You are not dropping out.”   
“I just-,”   
“Yeah, I know. You don’t want to see Cas. But I think You’ve spent quite enough time running away from your problems, don’t you?” Meg said, her eyes cutting daggers.   
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean asked.  
“I think we both know. Cas told me what happened.”   
Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut.   
“What all did he tell you?” He asked, afraid of the answer.  
“That’s between me and him,” Meg said, not faltering for a moment, “my point is, you need to man up and deal with it. This show will be good for you if you let it. What else did you have going on? You are wasting away into nothing, Dean, I can see it in your eyes. You need to be here as much as we need you here. You’re not going home, not over my dead body.”   
“But Meg-,”   
“But nothing. Shut up and watch the show.” Meg put on 13 Reasons Why and Dean and Meg sat on the bed and ate pizza and drank beer. When the song “The Night We Met” came on, Dean got out his phone and shazamed it so that he’d be able to dance to it later. He thought it could make for an interesting contemporary piece. As if reading his mind, Meg glanced at him.  
“Contemporary isn’t really your thing,” she remarked.  
“I’ve been getting into all forms of dance lately,” Dean told her. “Shh, we have to see what Clay is going to do next.” They watched five episodes before Meg was ready to call it a night.   
“We’ll have to finish the season together, if we have time,” she told him, stretching as she got up.   
“Yeah. It was a good show,” Dean told her, opening the door for her.   
“I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”   
Dean grimaced. “My two least favorite words: bright and early.”   
“Mine too,” Meg laughed. “Night Dean. Sweet dreams.”   
“Night Meg,” he closed the door after her.  
That night, he dreamt of the day he first met Cas. He remembered watching him dance, and how Ash had elbowed him and made some remark about being gay. He remembered being too entranced by Cas’s dancing to care. How Cas flung himself across the stage. But this time, he wasn’t dancing to “Lost” by Katy Perry. He was dancing to “The Night We Met”.   
“It’s too bad you fucked things up with him,” Dream Ash said.   
“What?” Dean asked.  
“You fucked up. I can’t believe you lost that man,” Ash gestured on stage and instead of dancing, Cas was crying, his heart shattered.   
“But I love you Dean. Please, we can work something out!” he shouted into the audience. Dean felt horrified.   
“I love you too, Cas,” he tried to tell him, but for whatever reason, no sound was coming out of his throat.   
He woke up suddenly at 3am, and was unable to fall back to sleep.


	3. Used to Love You

Dean:   
The next morning Dean did something rare. He got ready early, since he couldn’t sleep anyway, and went to the studio alone to warm up. He hadn’t been here since the season he competed with Castiel. He walked through the doors and into their old favorite room. He wasn’t sure why it was their favorite. He supposed because it was the last room in the hallway, and therefore it was often more secluded. He walked in to the empty room at 4am, and plugged his phone into the speakers, setting down his gym bag. He stretched a bit, and then played “The Night We Met”. He didn’t have a specific idea for how he wanted this dance to go. He found that sometimes, it was better to just let the music lead him.

I am not the only traveler  
Who has not repaid his debt  
I've been searching for a trail to follow again  
Take me back to the night we met

Dean started the movement off slow, in lazy, tired circles. By the time the first verse had ended, he had done one jump, but wasn’t satisfied with his legs. They didn’t seem to be pointing the right way. So, while the song played on, he tried again, aiming to make his muscles do what he wanted them to in the mirror. 

And then I can tell myself  
What the hell I'm supposed to do  
And then I can tell myself  
Not to ride along with you

Dean thought about his dream, about watching Cas dance on stage in Austin. He looked around the studio and saw phantoms of his memories, saw Cas kissing him for the first time. Saw them dancing, laughing, saw him falling over and Cas catching him. Focus. He told himself, pointing his toes harder, flexing his muscles into the jump. He leapt up, and spun around, still not getting it right. He laughed bitterly to himself, remembering when Cas had helped him with his first contemporary routine. He remembered Cas jumping up into the air.   
“That’s what it’s supposed to look like.” Cas had said. Dean took his advice again, and listened closer to the words.

I had all and then most of you  
Some and now none of you  
Take me back to the night we met  
I don't know what I'm supposed to do  
Haunted by the ghost of you  
Oh, take me back to the night we met

Maybe the words were the issue, he thought. He couldn’t seem to stop relating the words to Castiel. He leapt up and for a moment, it looked like he had gotten the jump right, until he landed and his ankle rolled. He collapsed to the ground.  
“DAMN IT!” He screamed, pounding his fist on the floor. 

When the night was full of terrors  
And your eyes were filled with tears  
When you had not touched me yet  
Oh, take me back to the night we met

“Are you okay?” A familiar voice sounded from the doorway. Dean jumped. He hadn’t known anyone was there, it was now 5am, no one should be there. It was still dark outside, and mostly dark in the studio, but in the shadows, he saw Castiel. Castiel, not in a suit and tie, but in baggy sweatpants and a loose-fitting shirt. The kind Dean knew would be soft and smell like him. Cas didn’t look tired, his eyes were wide and awake and showing concern, his lips, his gorgeous lips, were pressed into a straight line, the kind of face he made when he was trying to hold something back.  
Dean’s heart lurched.   
“I’m fine,” Dean answered shortly, getting up and turning off the music after the last verse. 

I had all and then most of you  
Some and now none of you  
Take me back to the night we met  
I don't know what I'm supposed to do  
Haunted by the ghost of you  
Take me back to the night we met

He tried not to limp as he ripped his phone off the cord.  
“Why are you dancing contemporary?” Castiel asked, his voice soft.   
Dean didn’t look at him. He couldn’t.   
“I’m a jack of all trades,” Dean hated the way his voice sounded, sarcastic.   
He heard Cas snort a bit.  
“Good for you. It was a nice song,” he said.   
“What are you doing here this early?” Dean asked, finally chancing a glance up at Castiel.  
“Same as you. Practicing.”   
“Normally you get up at 5,” Dean said.  
“Yeah, well. I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d get a warmup in before everything started today. And this was always our. . . uh. . .” Cas paused, realizing he had said our. “This was always my favorite studio.”  
Dean scooped up his gym bag, and started to walk out.  
“It’s all yours. I need to go get breakfast and ice my ankle anyway.”   
“No, Dean, you were here first, I didn’t mean to kick you out-,” Castiel said, with hurt in his big blue eyes. The kind of hurt Dean remembered being in his eyes a year and a half ago.   
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean growled, leaving the studio. Leaving Cas, standing there, broken once again. All Dean could do was break things.  
He got a banana from a gas station, and had trouble eating it. He knew he should probably eat more, but food tasted like nothing, and chewing was like eating cement. He drank a bottle of water, and got some ice, then headed back to the studio. This time, he went to the first room on the left, but he could still hear Castiel’s music playing from down the hall. Gwen Stefani, “Used to Love You” Dean rolled his eyes. He would dance to Stefani. 

I don’t know why I cry  
But I think it’s ‘cus I remember for the first time  
Since I hated you  
That I used to love you

Dean sat up against the mirrored wall, ice on his ankle, listening to the words that seemed to be stabbing knives in his heart.

I don’t know why I used to love you  
I don’t I don’t I don’t 

“I do,” Dean whispered to no one but himself.   
“Did you say something?”   
Dean’s head shot up in horror, and then realized it was Meg.   
“No, sorry. Just mumbling.”   
She nodded towards his ankle, “what happened?”   
“I was trying to practice but not fully awake yet,” Dean shrugged.   
Meg sat down her stuff and started to stretch. “Do you need a medic?”   
“Nah, I’ll be fine.”   
She nodded. “Good, because I need a practice buddy.”   
“Why not go practice with Castiel?” Dean asked, somewhat more bitterly than he had intended.  
“I’m always drawn to the more pathetic people in this world, Deano,” she said, smiling at him.  
“Gee thanks.”   
Dean stood, his ankle feeling somewhat better, and he and Meg started to warm up.


	4. If I Lay Here

Castiel:   
He hadn’t expected to see Dean in the studio so early. He knew Dean hated mornings. When he walked into the studio and heard music playing, he wondered down the hallway like a ghost. The song that was playing made his heart ache, and when he reached the door he saw Dean dancing, shirtless. He saw the pain and concentration in the other man’s face, saw sweat glistening on Dean’s skin. He must’ve been here a while. Cas didn’t mean to just stand there and creep on Dean, but he was transfixed. The spell was broken when Dean jumped up into the air, his lines perfect, and then landed with his ankle rolling under him. Dean crashed to the floor and Castiel took a step forward to help him up.  
“DAMN IT!” Dean screamed pounding the floor.   
“Are you okay?” Castiel asked. He flinched as Dean jumped. Not long after that, Dean had left in a huff. Castiel put his bag down, and leaned against the wall of mirrors, he rubbed his temples. He wasn’t expecting to see Dean here at all. He hadn’t known that Dean was back to All Star, he had assumed that Dean would never do it, but he supposed last time Dean turned Nigel down, he had different motivations in life. Dean’s primary motivation at the time was keeping his relationship with Cas. Cas laughed bitterly about the irony of that thought, and put on music, and started to dance.   
After a few hours, Hannah swung by the studio. When he paused the music, he could hear that people were dancing in other rooms. He was pouring sweat and he stooped to pick up his water bottle and walk over to Hannah.  
“Hey honey, I brought you breakfast,” she said, handing him a bag with some avocado toast wrapped up inside. Castiel grinned at her as he unwrapped it.  
“What, no muffins?” He joked. Hannah pulled opened her bag and pulled out a muffin.  
“None for you, you have to be in tip-top shape!” She said, biting into the muffin with sass, if that could be possible.   
Castiel laughed and reached out for her muffin, snatching it from her hands and taking a bite.   
“Give it back!” She giggled, swatting at him. He handed her breakfast back, and started munching on his own.   
“The toast was a good call,” he told her.   
“I know,” Hannah said, winking at him. She was too good to him. He hadn’t expected that when he got a manager, he’d end up loving her. She had fixed him in more ways than one. When he retreated from his relationship with Dean, he had transitioned into trying to be as busy as possible, and she had helped with that, all the while making sure he didn’t break down from working too hard. She had kept him fed, made sure he got at least some sleep, and made his life far less complicated than it had been previously. With Hannah around, he showed up, and he danced. She’d even negotiated his contract with So You Think You Can Dance to get him back on the show, a feat that he didn’t think was possible after he bailed during the season finale of the last season he was in. Hannah was like Wonder Woman. She took care of Castiel, and always seemed to know what he needed.   
She kissed him on the cheek and rubbed a soft hand up and down his arm slowly as they sat on the floor and ate breakfast.   
“What are you thinking about?” She asked him gently.   
“I saw Dean this morning,” he told her, almost wondering if it was worth mentioning to his fiancé.   
“Well,” she took a sip of water, “you were expecting that, right? After we ran into him at the airport.”   
“I guess,” he mumbled.  
“I know it is probably . . . still difficult for you, Castiel,” she never called him Cas. “But you’re just going to have to push through it. You’re an amazing dancer and you’re lucky that this opportunity came along. Don’t squander it because your ex is here.”   
“I know,” he told her, looking at her earnest, loving eyes. “You’re right. I’ll try and ignore him as much as possible.”   
Hannah stood up, brushing the crumbs off her slacks and holding a hand out to Castiel.   
“Come on, we’d better get going. The show wants you at the recording studio in an hour.”   
Castiel took her hand, and gathered his things, and then they left. On their way out the door, he chanced one look back at the studio, and couldn’t help but think of Dean.  
He remembered watching scary movies with Dean on the couch, curled up together, the scent of popcorn drifting lazily through the air. Every time a monster popped out, Cas would jump, and Dean would laugh, rubbing Cas’s side a little.   
“It’s not funny, Dean,” he would say seriously.  
“It’s hilarious angel,” Dean answered back, mouth full of popcorn.   
“Are you coming honey?” Hannah asked him, turning around. Cas nodded his head, and walked out of the studio, turning off the light behind him. 

Dean:   
When Meg and Dean walked into the filming location, they were surprised to see there were only ten newbies. Dean raised an eyebrow at Kat, and she looked away as if she didn’t see him. He felt like something was going on. Some of the All-Stars he recognized, Jo was there, and he gave her a huge hug and made her promise to have dinner with him and Meg later. Michael was there, the slimy little weasel that had tried to hook up with Cas. Dean glared at him and walked away, realizing he had nothing to be mad about anymore. Cas wasn’t his. Still, something was unsettling about the situation. Michael wasn’t responsible for Dean’s current mental state, but he certainly hadn’t helped. Kevin was back, and was talking to one of the new contestants, Dean saw him and waved, Kevin waved back enthusiastically, and Dean made a mental note to invite him to dinner as well. The rest of the All-Stars, Dean didn’t know.  
The hair and makeup people whisked Dean away, and started putting that god-awful powder all over him in big puffs. Through the clouds of what he was assured was “matte loose powder and nothing else” he saw Castiel enter the room, wearing nicer clothes than before, ready for his close-up. Hannah wasn’t too far behind him. Dean wondered what she was doing there. The crew didn’t normally allow significant others to hang around the dancers 24/7. Hannah had a kind face. High cheekbones, a ready smile. Dazzling blue eyes (though nothing like Cas’s). Her hair was cropped shorter, brown and wavy. She wore gray jacket with matching slacks, and a blue blouse. She looked so serious in those clothes. Even Meg, who was going to be on TV today, was wearing tight jeans and a sparkly band tee. His eyes flitted over to Cas, who was wearing a white button up and a blue tie with slacks that made his ass look-  
No, Winchester, don’t think about that. He decided instead to focus on the lady jabbing his face with an oddly shaped spongey thing.   
“Are you uh . . . gonna be done any time soon?” Dean asked her. Normally his makeup didn’t require this much effort. He looked down to the girl, who was probably in her mid-twenties, and noticed for the first time her hands were shaking a little.  
“Sorry I’m just- You’re just. . . I’m a big fan,” she told him nervously.  
Dean didn’t even know he had fans at this point. He smiled at her. “What’s your name?”   
“Becky,” she answered, grinning awkwardly and showing off her braces.   
“Thanks for the makeup Becky,” Dean told her, winking.   
She let out a shrill little giggle which Dean found adorable, and then Kat called the dancers over to the center of the floor, and his attention was snapped elsewhere.   
Kat stood, glamourous as ever in the middle of the room, the cameras were turned on.   
“Dancers, this season is going to be different,” Kat paused for dramatic effect, the camera swooped around to show the reactions of the dancers. Dean stood, stone faced. “This season is our ten year anniversary, and as such, we wanted to do a bit more work with the all-stars, as well as finding America’s favorite dancer. So while the all-stars will pair up with our new dancers to help them better learn their way around different genres of dance, the all-stars will also be paired up with each other, and the new dancers will be paired up with each other. What this means, is that each episode, everyone here will be expected to learn two routines, and the new comers will be expected to learn three, including the opening group number. The partners will rotate out, and we expect you should all get a chance to work with each other at some point. Also the last few episodes of the season are going to be a redo of all of our fan favorites, but instead of just being fan favorites from this season, they will be fan favorites from all of the seasons.”  
Kat seemed to finally take a breath. “Thank you so much for joining us on this season, now let’s see who you’ll be dancing with for the first week!”   
Dean’s stomach dropped as he looked over at Castiel, standing across the room from him. Their eyes met. They’d be working together, Dean was sure of it. That’s the way fate worked, right? He didn’t know how well he would handle that. And that thing about fan favorites from all of the seasons? Dean hoped that meant he would be dancing with Jo. What it probably meant was that he would be dancing with Cas. Turning Pages had been talked about for years. He felt like he had swallowed a rock.  
“Dean!” Kat cried out, “come forth and draw your first names!” Kat had two hats. One hat was full of new dancers, one hat was full of old dancers. He drew his new dancer first.   
“Bela Talbot.” Dean read off the paper. Bela came forward and hugged Dean, seeming confident and relaxed. Way more than Dean had been on his first day picking names.   
“And your All-Star?” Kat asked, looking at the hat excitedly. Dean caught her eyes flick up towards Castiel, and back to him. He decided not to acknowledge that look, not on camera. He just hoped he didn’t get-  
“Meg Masters,” he read the name with a breath of relief. Meg rushed forward and hugged Dean and he smiled and clapped her on the back. He looked up at Kat who looked mildly disappointed, but within seconds was looking back up at the camera and smiling dazzlingly. After that, Dean mostly zoned out. When Castiel was called, he got a newbie named Lisa, and an All-Star. Michael. Castiel was polite to Lisa, hugging her. When Michael came up to him, Castiel merely looked at him, even in front of the camera, he wasn’t willing to hug Michael, let alone shake his hand. Michael looked back, and seemed to feel the same way about Castiel, blush burning on his cheeks, from anger or embarrassment, Dean couldn’t tell.  
After the cameras were off, Dean sought out Kat.   
“Dean! So good to see you again after all these years!” Kat held her arm out and Dean hugged her easily.  
“Great to see you again too, Kat. Hey, I had a question.”   
Kat’s eyes seemed to cloud.   
“Yes?”   
“Well, I’m not particularly happy with this new arrangement of the show, I understand it wasn’t your decision though,” he continued, “but you know weird stuff happened between Castiel and Michael, right? Is it . . . uh . . . a good idea to put the two of them together?” He sincerely hoped no one could hear him right now.  
Kat fixed him with a questioning stare, “they will be monitored closely. We were aware of their previous . . . encounter. Dean I have a question for you,” Kat said.   
“Shoot.”  
“Why do you care?” Kat asked, not rudely, but genuinely curious.   
“I . . . uh . . . everyone deserves to be safe, and we’ve gone through some disturbing stuff from the people on this show. I was just . . . wanting to be safe,” Dean stuttered, knowing that there was an underlying truth to his words. Because I still love him. Kat seemed to know that truth too, and looked at him sadly, putting a hand on his shoulder.   
“I’ll make sure he’s safe, Dean,” she told him. “What happened to you will never happen to our dancers again,” she said, squeezing him reassuringly. She was talking about Alistair. Dean flinched a little and nodded.  
“Nice talking to you,” he said, turning around, and ran face first into Castiel, bumping their shoulders painfully and stepping on his foot. “Oh. Um- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . . I’ll go.” Dean panicked, his words not coming out. Castiel was staring at Dean as if Dean had just admitted to eating monkey flesh. Ah. So he had probably overheard his entire conversation with Kat. Dean rushed out of the room, feeling for all the world like he had forgotten how to breathe.


	5. Every Little Thing

Dean:  
“Dinner and dancing?” Meg asked after their rehearsal for the day was done. The dancers were filing out of the studio, Dean was avoiding Castiel as much as he could, and hung back, walking slower so as not to catch up to Castiel, walking towards the door, talking to his new dance partner, Lisa.  
“I was thinking just dinner . . .” Dean replied, his muscles aching from a day jam packed with high intensity training. He had gotten salsa dancing with Bela, and he was positive his butt had never been more sore. He and Meg were assigned contemporary. Dean wanted to go back to the hotel, take a hot bath, and go to bed, but he’d promised dinner with Jo, Kevin and Meg.   
“Oh come on Deano. Two-stepping, your favorite,” Meg begged. Every fiber of his being wanted to say no, but when he looked at Meg’s face he realized how badly she wanted to go out.  
“Why do you want to go so bad?” He asked. Meg’s eyes flitted over to Jo, grinning at something Kevin had said as she twisted her blonde hair up into a bun.  
“No reason,” Meg mumbled to herself.   
“Oh my god,” Dean laughed, “you want me to wingman for you?”   
Meg punched him in the arm, “shut up, they’ll hear you.”   
“Meg and Jo sittin’ in a tree-,” Dean started quietly, Meg punched him again. “Yeah, I’ll go two stepping with you guys.” Dean said, rubbing his arm, now even more sore than it was previously thanks to Meg’s aggression.   
“That’s what I like to hear Deano,” she said, smiling sweetly like she hadn’t just punched the crap out of his arm. “Meet up in the hotel lobby at 8.” And with that she was gone, a mass of brown curls, running up to Jo and Kevin. Dean smiled after her. Good for her. She hadn’t been much for relationships, especially after Luci. But Jo was a sweet girl. Maybe she and Meg could make it work.  
Dean went back to his hotel room, showered, and changed. He got dressed in a green flannel over a fitted black tee and tight jeans with his boots. He checked himself over in the mirror one time. He still had dark circles under his eyes that Becky the makeup guru would have to work hard to conceal. He should really do her a favor and get some sleep. His face still looked gaunt, like he wasn’t eating enough. He realized all he had eaten so far that day was a banana. His hair lacked its usual luster, and had for at least two years. This was the Dean Winchester he was used to seeing in the mirror now. This is who he was. A shadow of his former self. He grimaced at his reflection and headed out the door.   
He met up with Jo and Kevin in the lobby and Meg came down shortly, wearing a backless black shirt and tight jeans. Jo’s eyes lingered on Meg for a minute as she hugged her in greeting. Dean swore he saw Meg actually blush. He and Kevin shared a knowing look, and the four dancers headed out to dinner. They went to a Greek restaurant, since Kevin said he’d been craving Dolma. The dinner was nice, the food was good, and Dean managed to eat all his chicken shwarma, and wash it down with a glass of wine. Kevin, who had turned 21 very recently, was enjoying a big glass of wine himself.   
“Slow down there, Kev, I’m not going to hold your hair back when you throw up.” Dean said, sassily.   
“Hah hah very funny,” Kevin threw him a glare over the rim of his wine glass. Meg and Jo were talking about the best dance partners they’d been paired up with on the show, and Dean tuned into the conversation.  
“I haven’t had my time on air with Deano yet, but he’s pretty good,” Meg said, smiling at him.   
“Well, speaking from someone with Dean experience, he’s awesome,” Jo said, laughing. “He always makes sure to catch you if you fall, even if it means hurting himself. That’s all you can ask for in a partner.”   
“That is a nice quality,” Meg said, looking at Jo, eyes half lidded. “I’m also very good at catching people when they fall.”  
Dean looked at Jo, who was blushing a little, and then at Kevin.  
“Why do I feel like they’ve both slept with me and are dishing on how I am in bed?” Dean asked Kevin.   
“Uh because that’s totally what it sounds like?” Kevin answered, taking another sip of his wine.   
“Nah for that, we’d need Cas to-,” Kevin elbowed Jo as Dean’s face fell, staring at his plate.   
“So. Dancing? Shall we?” Meg asked, obviously trying to get Dean’s mind off his ex. Dean knocked back the rest of his wine, and they paid their check and left.   
When they got to the club, Luke Bryan was singing about honey bees, and smiling charmingly through the TV’s that played his music video all over the club. Dean led the group over to the bar, and ordered beers for everyone. When he turned around, beer in hand, and saw Castiel on the dancefloor with Hannah, he instantly retreated back to the bar and ordered a second, stronger drink. Meg’s eyes met his after he knocked the back his whiskey on ice, and left the glass on the bar.   
They found a place to stand that seemed mostly out of the way, over by the pool tables. Meg challenged Jo to a game, but her eyes kept flitting over to Dean. Dean tried not to look up at Cas for as long as possible, but eventually he couldn’t help it. He saw Castiel spinning his fiancé around. She didn’t seem to be great at dancing, but she wasn’t awful either. Castiel was leading her slowly, and trying to ensure she didn’t get bumped into too hard. He looked radiant, wearing a blue button down. The one Dean bought him. With tight jeans and boots that he and Cas had picked out together. How dare he. Two stepping was Dean’s thing. Castiel hadn’t even two stepped before he knew Dean, and now here he was, wearing an outfit basically inspired by Dean, flaunting his fiancé who couldn’t even dance. Dean was fuming.   
“I’m going to go get another drink,” Dean said gruffly.   
“I’ll go with you,” Kevin said, following him. Meg and Jo nodded absentmindedly, and Jo continued telling the story of how her mom almost shot a guy.   
“Double shot of whiskey on the rocks,” Dean told the bartender. When he turned around, he bumped directly into another person. “Oh shit dude, I’m so sorry-,” he had bumped into Castiel, and spilled his whiskey down the front of Cas’s shirt. “Damn it!” Dean said, angry, his fists balled up.  
“Dean-,” Castiel said, his fiancé clinging to his side, looking back and forth between them.  
“Sorry about the shirt,” Dean grumbled, stepping away, drink-less. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.  
“Dean I’m sorry, I must’ve been standing too close, let me buy you another-,”  
“It’s fine Cas.”   
Castiel looked for all the world like he’d been hurt. Like he was the one who couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, was suffering from depression, PTSD, and a slew of other mental issues. Like he was the one who had to watch his ex and his gorgeous fiancé dancing. Dean shook his head and walked away.   
Kevin found him by the pool tables again, and handed Dean a whiskey on the rocks. From there on out, the rest of the night seemed to pass in a whiskey blur. He danced to two songs, one with Meg, one with Jo. At one point, he was sitting down and he heard the song “Every Little Thing” by Carly Pearce.   
The dance floor cleared, three or four couples danced. Dean looked around the hazy club, and somehow, his eyes found Castiel’s. 

Every little thing  
I remember every little thing  
The high the hurt the shine the sting   
Of every little thing 

Dean sucked in a breath as if he’d been punched in the gut, and tore his eyes away from Castiel, taking another huge gulp of his drink, and letting the slow, painful melody course through him. 

I’m haunted by the memories  
Of every little thing 

He remembered Cas smiling at him on their wedding day, he remembered dancing with him at his dance studio, he remembered the romantic nights – the ones where they’d dressed up and gone out for dinner. He remembered dancing through the grocery store isles, and baking pie with Cas’s hands wrapped around his waist. He remembered Cas’s face, shattered, when Dean told him to go.  
Dean wished the stupid song would end already. He found Castiel’s eyes again, they looked said, pained. Dean got mad again. Castiel didn’t get to be in pain, not now. Not tonight. Dean went to the bar and got two more drinks.  
“Come on Dean, let’s get you back to the hotel,” Meg told him, trying to pull him off of his barstool.   
“Don’t wanna!” Dean whined. Kevin helped Meg pull him off and they started to walk him towards the door.   
In the car on the way back to the hotel, Dean lay his head in Meg’s lap and sobbed the entire drive. He knew he should feel embarrassed, and he knew he was grateful Jo and Kevin had taken a separate cab. He was grateful that Meg was so kind to him, stroking his short hair and whispering sweetly to him.   
“Shh . . . it’s okay Deano . . .” the sound of her voice soothed him like ocean waves.  
“I . . . I love him, Meg. I still love him. I’ve always,” he hiccupped, “loved him.”   
“I know . . . It’s okay . . .I know,” she rubbed his back gently as he cried and hiccupped some more.   
Dean didn’t remember what happened after that, but he woke up the next morning, his head and eyes bursting with pain, and Meg sleeping beside him in his bed, fully clothed. He thought back to last night, but couldn’t remember. Though, he was sure nothing had happened between him and Meg. He lifted up the blankets and saw that he was still wearing his jeans from last night, and his black tee shirt.   
“Meg. . .” he said, his voice hoarse and awful sounding.   
“Hmm?” She replied, eyes still closed.   
“We should . . . ugh we should get up and get going. It’s 6am.”   
“mmkay,” she mumbled, not moving.   
“Meg . . . we didn’t . . .”   
“No, Winchester, I didn’t bone you,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.  
“I didn’t think so, I was just double checking.”  
“You were crying really hard and I couldn’t leave you,” Meg sat up, stretching, her brown hair in a massive tangle.   
“Uh . . .” Dean felt a wave of embarrassment, “thanks for being a good friend, Meg.”   
She stood up and pulled her shoes back on.   
“You need to go get him back,” she said, looking at him seriously with her makeup smudged eyes.  
“What?” Dean asked, standing up and reaching for a water bottle.   
“You still love Castiel, a lot. You need to go get him back.”   
Meg walked out of his room to get ready for the day, leaving Dean with a sinking feeling in his gut.


	6. Water Under the Bridge

Castiel: 

The past few days had been weird. First, Castiel overheard Dean talking to Kat about Michael, and worrying about Castiel dancing with him. He had walked over to Kat to bring up the same issues, but stopped short when he heard Dean’s concerned tone.   
“. . . you know weird stuff happened between Castiel and Michael, right? Is it . . . uh . . . a good idea to put the two of them together?” Dean asked.  
“They will be monitored closely. We were aware of their previous . . . encounter. Dean I have a question for you,” Kat said.   
“Shoot.”  
“Why do you care?” Kat asked.  
“I . . . uh . . . everyone deserves to be safe, and we’ve gone through some disturbing stuff from the people on this show. I was just . . . wanting to be safe,” Dean stuttered, Kat put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.   
“I’ll make sure he’s safe, Dean,” she told him. “What happened to you will never happen to our dancers again,” she said.  
“Nice talking to you,” Dean said hurriedly, turning around and running face first into Castiel.  
After Dean had bumped into him, Castiel had wanted to ask him to wait, he had wanted to say “let’s talk about this.” he had wanted to . . . but his voice seemed to freeze in his throat. Dance rehearsal with Lisa had been fine, she was nothing extraordinary, but he wasn’t terrible either. She was really just . . . alright. Dance rehearsal with Michael had been tense at best. They had gotten Broadway, so both dancers were stressed and out of their element, on top of being uncomfortable around each other. Their piece was supposed to be about two brothers who had gone separate ways in life, and while Castiel had no part acting the ending out, where he and Michael walked away from one another, the beginning where they expressed brotherly love was increasingly frustrating. By the end of practice, Castiel had considered quitting the show at least five times. Each time, something held him back. Perhaps it was for the simple fact that last time he had signed on to do the show, he had quit a few hours too early and Hannah had worked hard to secure another contract with the show. Perhaps it was something else. Castiel thought of Dean, and what he would think of him. No, he wasn’t doing this for Dean.   
When he got back to the hotel room, he collapsed onto the bed. Hannah looked up from the laptop she was studiously typing on at the table.   
“Hard rehearsal?” she asked. Castiel looked up at her from where he lay, face down on the cozy comforter. She was wearing a white button up, the sleeves were rolled up presenting her flawless soft skin, a few buttons of the shirt were unbuttoned. She had her hair twisted up into a messy knot on the back of her head, and a few stray pieces curled down around her face. She had one perfect eyebrow raised, and was looking at him with her piercing blue/gray eyes in concern and love.   
“I was going to say I hate Michael,” Castiel paused, “but then I was overwhelmed with this feeling of love for you.” Hannah smiled, she didn’t ever seem to blush, not like Dean. Castiel wanted to kick himself for thinking of Dean. He had ruined this moment and all because he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Dean.   
“Why don’t we go dancing tonight, my love?” She asked, sitting on the bed next to him and rubbing his back gently.   
“You hate dancing,” Castiel said with a smile.  
“I don’t hate dancing . . . I’m just not as good at it as you pros. I can two step,” she answered easily, ruffling his hair. He kept it shorter now. Hannah liked it shorter.  
“Well. It would be fun to take you out in Vegas . . .”   
So out they went, for dinner first at a local pizza place, and then to the club. Castiel had one beer when Hannah grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the dance floor. He smiled at her, sat his beer down, and led her onto the raised, polished floor. Hannah was right when she said she wasn’t a great dancer, but Castiel walked her slowly, guarding her back from people who might bump into her. He spun her easily, and was caught up in the joy of being with her when he caught someone’s fanfiction green eyes. Dean. Of course. The one night he wanted to go out with his fiancé, Dean Winchester had to show up to ruin things.   
The rest of the night had passed in a painful, alcohol soaked blur. Castiel didn’t drink that much, Hannah didn’t seem to like it when he did. At one point Castiel’s eyes met Dean’s across the bar. God, he looked thin. And sad. Like he hadn’t slept in months, his face looked gaunt. Part of Castiel wanted to go to Dean, to hug him. He looked down at his beautiful fiancé, who was watching him with worry in her eyes.  
“Babe, maybe we should leave,” she yelled loudly over the sad song playing.  
“Yeah. Leaving sounds good.”   
The show that week went off mostly without hitch. The main hitch being that Castiel and Michael danced horribly together, completely out of synch. The judges made sure to let them know how terribly they’d done. Castiel walked gracefully back stage and then stormed to the people in charge of costume design to tear off his costume. Michael walked by while he was shirtless, and eyed him up and down like a shark, his eyes seeming to linger on Castiel’s angel wing tattoos. Castiel shuddered.   
“Way to go, partner.” Michael spat. Castiel opened his mouth to say something when Dean, seemingly out of nowhere barreled into Michael, knocking him a few feet forward.  
“Oops. Hey, Mikey, Becky from makeup is looking for you.”   
“It’s Michael,” Michael growled.   
“Sorry Mitchell! She’s right over there!” Dean pointed the other direction and Michael looked like he wanted to punch Dean, before storming off.   
“Not so light on your feet, huh Winchester?” Castiel asked, smiling appreciatively at Dean. Dean looked at him, and Castiel saw a brief flicker of pain before Dean masked it with his usual bravado.  
“Not when I don’t want to be,” Dean winked, and walked away.   
Dean’s dance with Meg was perfect. They got contemporary and danced beautifully to Adele’s “Water Under the Bridge”. The dance ended with Dean hugging Meg from behind as she leaned back against him for support. They danced as though they had been dancing together for years.   
The next show passed in the blink of an eye, Castiel didn’t really remember much, except Hannah making sure he ate and fluttering around him like a paranoid little bird. He loved her for it, but he wished she would just back off, just a little bit.   
The day after that, it was time to pick new partners. Dean was standing by Meg, and laughing at something she said. The bags under his eyes still prominent before Becky blended them away with concealer. Castiel couldn’t help but notice how Dean had lost weight, how his skin looked more pale than usual. He chewed his lip.   
“Dancers! It is time yet again for another partner pair up! Jo, will you step up first!” Jo smiled, and bounded to the stage, her blonde hair bouncing behind her.   
“Meg!” she bubbled. Meg turned bright red, and Castiel caught Dean grinning from ear to ear as Meg ran up to the stage to hug Jo. Castiel wondered if there was something going on between the two, and he smiled too, catching Dean’s eye. Dean looked away quickly. Meg also got paired up with a new dancer named Mick.   
“Dean, you’re up next!” Dean drew his new dancer first this time, and drew a girl named Eileen. She was deaf, and Dean was trained in ASL from his job. He grinned at Eileen and signed something to her and she laughed and hugged him. Castiel felt himself smiling. They would be a good pair.   
“And your all star?” Kat held out the hat full of names. Dean drew a piece of paper, and his smile faded from his face.  
“Castiel,” he said, his eyes finding Castiel again in the crowd.   
“Oh how exciting! I can’t wait for you two to dance together again!” Kat shouted, trying to get the attention on her and not on the two men. Castiel came forward, his smile now gone too. He and Dean hugged awkwardly, stiffly, for the cameras, and pretended to be happy when the camera was on him.   
After the cameras were off, it was practice time. Castiel’s new dancer was Dean’s partner the previous week, Bela. She was gorgeous, straight down to business, and a talented dancer. They got assigned American jive, and thus had to move very quickly in their routine. By the time the first practice was done, Castiel was dripping with sweat and his ankles felt sore. It was time for his All Star practice. He walked to the studio room he had been assigned. Dean was already there, stretching in the corner. They had been assigned hip hop. Napoleon and Tabatha were talking to each other while Dean sat in front of the mirror, his legs spread out, reaching for his right foot. Castiel sat down his gym bag, and headed over to Dean.  
“Mind if I stretch with you?” Castiel asked him.   
Dean looked up at him and shrugged in response.   
“Free country.”  
Castiel nodded and sat down on the floor, copying Dean’s movements. Dean mostly ignored him, except when Castiel accidentally bumped into Dean.  
“Sorry,” Castiel had mumbled. Dean had just scooted away in response. Napoleon and Tabatha came over, Tabatha clapping her hands joyfully. They had known, of course, that Castiel and Dean were no longer together. Everyone knew. So why were they torturing them?   
“This dance is going to be set to Hasley’s Now or Never.” Castiel saw Dean flinch out of the corner of his eye. “It’s about a couple who are immortal who are always running from danger in the form of people who want to kill them for their power, and through it all, they love each other, and though they fight, they understand the importance of their love.”  
Castiel looked over at Dean, who looked absolutely sad. And then back up to Napoleon and Tabatha. He thought about requesting a change of choreography, but knew that such things were disrespectful, and wouldn’t happen. It sounded like an interesting concept, and Castiel was excited to dance it, but he wished he could’ve danced it with anyone but Dean.  
The first practice was grueling. Castiel had been dancing hip hop for years, and he wasn’t nearly as bad at it as he used to be. But dancing hip hop with Dean, dancing this routine with Dean, seemed near impossible. The routine was going to end with a kiss. Though they hadn’t practiced that part yet. At one point in the routine, Dean was supposed to chase after Castiel, and then save him from certain death by hoisting him up and onto a platform with him. Castiel had to fall back, trusting that Dean would catch him, and Dean had to move quickly to grab onto Castiel, fling him up, and then go back into dancing. They practiced it with an air bag at the foot of the platform so that if Dean didn’t catch him, Castiel wouldn’t be hurt, but the actual routine on stage would have no safeguards. Castiel thought in theory, the move would be stunning, something that would make everyone in the audience scream. But in practice, Dean and Castiel were so out of synch now that Dean hadn’t managed to catch Castiel once, let alone look like he cared about catching him.   
“Maybe just a . . . a touch more emotion this time, Dean!” Napoleon shouted, clearly frustrated after Dean had dropped Castiel for probably the fifteenth time. Dean, who had never had a hard time putting on a show, couldn’t seem to muster even a smile when he pulled Castiel close.   
“Less like a robot and more like an immortal lover!” Tabatha ordered.   
After Dean dropped Castiel yet again, Napoleon called it.   
“Go home, ice up, and work on your acting,” the message was aimed at both dancers, as Castiel realized he, too, had a hard time pretending to be in love with Dean. The issue, Castiel thought, was that he wasn’t pretending. He thought he had buried the feelings he had for Dean long ago, but when they were pressed up together, dancing against each other, Castiel felt a painful stab in his chest that told him he still loved Dean, and the emotion displayed on his face was probably something akin to anguish.   
Dean nodded at Napoleon and went to the side of the room where his gym bag was to sit and drink some water.   
“Dean,” Castiel said, having followed him.   
“What?” Dean asked, not unkindly, but not necessarily full of warmth either.  
“Can we . . . can we maybe grab dinner? I think for this whole thing to work,” Castiel sighed, running a hand through his hair, “we need to talk.”   
Dean looked at Castiel, real emotion in his eyes for the first time since the rehearsal had started. Castiel saw his own despair reflected back at him.   
“Yeah. We really don’t have a choice.”   
“No, we really don’t. I’m afraid it’s now or never,” Castiel smiled slightly.  
“Dude,” Dean chuckled for what seemed like the first time in a long time, and Castiel smiled bigger in response.   
“Burgers, or pizza?” Castiel asked him, holding out his hand to help Dean up off the floor.  
“Pizza . . . man,” Dean responded, and Castiel felt a twinge of bittersweet as he recalled the dance that had brought them together in the first place.   
“Pizza it is,” he said, an easy smile on his face.


	7. A Million Reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Talk of depression and PTSD at the end of the chapter, if you don’t want to read that bit, skip over Dean’s last point of view section.

Dean:  
So many memories came flooding back to Dean as he took Castiel’s hand. When their skin touched, he felt a spark run through him that seemed to shake his entire body. He felt like right now would be the perfect time to dance, and then he realized he’d been dancing all day, and his entire body ached. This didn’t mean anything, he told himself, they were just talking. They needed to talk, to be on good terms with each other at the very least. As they walked through the hallway, Castiel typed something into his phone, and put it away.  
“How is she?” Dean asked, knowing who Castiel was texting.   
“Hannah’s great,” Castiel answered easily, if a bit awkwardly, smiling a little.   
“And you’re happy with her?” Dean asked before he could think better of it. He wasn’t asking for himself, he was asking genuinely because he cared about Castiel.   
Castiel looked at Dean, assessing the situation. Trying to decide why Dean had asked at all.   
“Yes, she makes me very happy,” Castiel answered.   
Dean smiled and nodded, “good.”   
They went to the pizza place they both liked, the one they had gotten pizza from when Dean came to visit Castiel on his previous All Star season. They sat on the rooftop, with pepperoni pizza and beer. At first, Dean wasn’t sure what to say. He drank his beer quickly, hoping the alcohol would make his mind work a little better.   
“You seem . . . tired,” Castiel said finally.   
Dean grunted, not wanting to talk about his physical appearance.   
“I’m peachy,” he said around a bite of pizza.  
Castiel looked at him with a raised eyebrow, clearly knowing Dean was bullshitting, and opting for a new subject.   
“How is work?”   
“Same old same old. I’ve been there for years now. I get in early, go home late. The kids are amazing,” he mumbled absentmindedly, “and you, Mr. bigshot? I hear you’re a sensation these days.”   
“I wouldn’t say sensation,” Castiel said, blushing and picking at a bit of cheese.   
“I would,” Dean said, looking up at Castiel. For a moment, there was silence as they stared at each other.   
“Dean-,”   
“I only meant I’ve uh, seen you on the cover of magazines and stuff. All over TV. Aren’t you even in a movie now?” Dean asked as if he didn’t own a copy of Knock Out, a movie in which Castiel choreographed and danced in.   
“Yes, I have been successful in the world of dance, I suppose.”   
“I always knew you would be, angel face,” Dean said, looking out at the twinkling lights of Vegas.   
“I haven’t heard that nickname in quite a while,” Castiel said, smiling.   
“I thought the tattoos would’ve given it away.”  
“Most people don’t get to see my tattoos.”   
They trailed off into a comfortable silence for a minute.   
“Dean, we need to be able to work together on this dance. And seeing as there is . . . history between us . . . I know it’s difficult, but we need to at least get good at acting . . .” Castiel said.  
“Why didn’t you come back?” Dean asked suddenly, regretting the words as soon as they left his lips, regretting the pain in his voice, the pain Castiel instantly held in his big blue eyes. Castiel seemed at a loss for words. “When you were here,” Dean gestured to the Vegas streets and the neon signs, “when we were fighting, and you knew I wasn’t okay, why didn’t you come back right away?” Dean asked, finally asking a question he’d wanted an answer to for years.   
Castiel was quiet for a minute, he seemed to be formulating his thoughts.   
“I should have come back. I guess I was just . . . mad. I felt wronged and I wanted you to suffer a little, told myself I didn’t care if you hurt. It was wrong of me. I should’ve never let it get that far,” Castiel’s voice was deep and serious, and his eyes looked watery, like he was trying to hold back tears.   
Dean nodded silently, accepting the answer.   
“It wasn’t all your fault, and I never want you to think that it was. I don’t . . . I don’t blame you. For anything,” Dean told him, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off of him.   
“Why did you send me away?” Castiel asked, biting his lips to keep them from quivering.   
Dean took a deep breath.   
“I felt like . . . like I was ruining you. I’m messed up, I’ve been messed up for a while now. I know everyone sees it. I look like shit. I feel like shit. I just didn’t want you to be caught up in that.”  
Castiel was quiet for what seemed like an eternity. Dean wasn’t eating anymore, and his beer was gone, so he just stared at Castiel and waited for him to say something. He looked at the man’s brown hair, shorter than he used to wear it. He noticed how in the past year and a half, Castiel’s face had deeper lines in it, but not much deeper. He noticed new freckles, he noticed how Castiel was trying, desperately trying, not to cry.   
“That wasn’t fair to me. I know you thought it was, but it wasn’t. Cutting me out . . . making me leave . . . it destroyed me. Far more than helping you deal with depression and PTSD could have. And I’ve tried my hardest to rebuild myself after you. Hannah has helped me move on as best as I could. But . . . I think what hurts the most is I was ready to give you forever. I had our whole lives planned out, and they always included each other. You took that from me. Visions of children, of grandchildren, of sitting on a porch somewhere in two rocking chairs, being old and in love . . .” Castiel cut himself off, and finally a tear escaped and rolled down his perfect cheek.   
Dean felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. He hated himself for making Castiel- Cas hurt.   
“Cas . . . I’m sorry. I want you to know that I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you . . . I was trying so hard to hurt you less . . .”   
Castiel smiled at Dean as he wiped away his tear.   
“It’s okay. I’m okay. I just needed answers.”  
“So did I.”   
“I know. Now that we both have that . . . can we move on? Can we be dance partners, dare I even say . . . can we be friends?” Cas asked him.  
“I would like that. And we can dance that dance and make it the best of the season,” Dean said, acting like it wouldn’t be hard to be in love with Castiel on the stage.   
“One more thing, they’re going to make us dance Turning Page, you know that, right?”   
“I figured as much,” Dean said, grimacing.   
“Will you be able to do that?”   
“I don’t see that I have a choice. What about you?” Dean asked.  
“I definitely don’t have a choice.”   
“It’s going to suck. This whole situation is going to suck.”   
“Maybe we could make it suck less by cooperating?” Castiel asked, smiling a little.  
“We can try,” Dean answered gruffly, getting up to throw away his trash.

Castiel: 

When he got to the hotel, he was shocked to see that Hannah wasn’t sitting at the desk, typing on her laptop.  
“Hannah?” he called out, looking around for her. She was in the bathroom, gathering her toiletries into a small bag. Castiel felt everything stop. He stood there and stared at her. “What are you doing?” he asked.  
“Castiel . . .” she set down the bag she was holding, and turned to face him, “Castiel, we need to talk.” 

Dean: 

When Dean got back to the hotel, for some reason he thought about the events leading up to Castiel leaving. He remembered vividly that terrible time, and for the first time in one and a half years, he thought back to why exactly Castiel had left.   
The days had dragged on, and were in one continuous loop. Dean didn’t know why he felt this way, he just slipped into depression and allowed himself to fade away. He found it hard to get out of bed, hard to eat food. When he closed his eyes, he started seeing Alistair again. He spent his days in bed, staring at the wall, and hours would pass before he realized he hadn’t moved. Castiel worried over him, tried to hold him, but Dean didn’t want to feel someone else’s touch. Castiel tried to feed him, but Dean felt like the food tasted like nothing. It was a month later, when Dean got up to get a glass of water, and he heard Castiel on the phone in the kitchen.  
“I know Sam. I’m trying so hard to help him . . . I just don’t know what to do. He needs to see the therapist, but he hardly gets out of bed . . . No, he’s not- God of course he’s not on any drugs, and you know I’m not going to allow alcohol into the house at a time like this. . . I know, I’m worried too . . .I just can’t tell if I’m helping him, or hurting him worse at this point.” There was a pause, and Cas took a few shaky breaths. He was sobbing into the phone. “I love him so much, and seeing him like this is hurting me terribly. I feel like I can’t breathe.”   
Dean leaned against the doorway, and put his face in his hands. He didn’t cry, but he felt devastation course through him, running over his skin like cold ice water. Dean shuffled back to bed, and lay down, and didn’t move again for the rest of the night. He wasn’t just hurting himself, he was hurting Cas. He was dragging Cas down like he was drowning and clinging to Cas in the water, pushing his head under too. Cas couldn’t breathe. He had to stop this . . . but he didn’t see how he would get better . . . he had no idea when he’d be better . . . he didn’t want Cas to be ruined. Cas was a bright light, a watercolor made of a thousand shades. He couldn’t be responsible for destroying that. When Cas came in a few hours later to go to bed, Dean spoke for the first time in what seemed like days. His voice cracked with disuse.   
“Cas . . .”   
Cas looked genuinely shocked, but happy, and Dean hated to see that hope in his eyes, knowing what was coming next.  
“Yes, my love?” Cas asked.   
“I think you should go.”   
Cas froze, stood still on his side of the bed, his pajama pants in his hand. He stared at Dean as if he had spoken another language. Dean knew he wouldn’t leave, not yet.  
“What?” Cas whispered, seemingly unable to vocalize the word.  
“I need you to leave,” Dean told him, hardly able to look him in the eyes. He knew Cas wouldn’t buy it unless Dean looked directly into those big blue eyes. So he did. He watched Cas’s heart shatter in front of him, because of him.  
“I thought you loved me.”  
“Leave. Go,” Dean said, “I don’t love you Castiel.” Dean hardly ever said his full name, he watched Cas flinch.  
“But I love you Dean- Please! We can work something out!”  
Dean rolled back over on the bed, and stared at the wall. He heard Cas pack up a few things, and watched as Cas walked out the door. Before he closed it, he turned to look at Dean one last time, tears streaming down his face, his eyes puffy.   
“Are . . . are you sure?” he asked, his voice quivering.  
“Just go. Just breathe,” he said, not taking his eyes off the wall. He didn’t cry, and he felt like he should have. He felt like he should’ve been like Cas, and cried his eyes out, but he couldn’t bring himself to shed a single tear.   
Sammy came over the next day to pack up the rest of Cas’s stuff for him. He put a bowl of chicken noddle soup down in front of Dean with a glass of water, but didn’t say anything to him. Dean felt anger rise within him for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint.   
“Aren’t you going to yell at me?” He asked Sam harshly.   
“No,” Sam said, turning to look at Dean and then turning back to the dresser with Cas’s clothes in it.   
“Why not?” Dean asked.   
“You know what you did. You let the love of your life leave- No, you made the love of your life leave. You crushed him. And all he did was love you. I have nothing to say to you. You’re sick, and you need help, and you won’t get it, and no amount of me yelling will force you to get it,” Sam said it all with hardly any emotion in his voice.   
Dean had nothing to say, so he continued staring at the wall. He wasn’t sure how long the soup sat beside his bed, but he noticed when the sun went down, and the room grew dark. He turned around to look at Cas’s side of the room, to see it empty. Sam had only left the picture on the night stand. The picture of Dean and Cas on their wedding day.


End file.
